My Everything
by Lady Amaryllis
Summary: Aragorn is in Minas Tirith after being struck down in battle. Short ficlet; A/L slash. Don't worry, I haven't given up on The Fallen...part three is coming soon, I promise. ^_^


Standard disclaimers apply. ^_^  
  
Characters: Legolas/Aragorn  
  
Warnings: Angst, sap, slash (sooo cuuuuute)  
  
Notes: None, really. Oh…..FEEDBACK!! FEEDBACK!!!!!!  
  
Everything  
  
Outside, the wind blew relentlessly and heavy raindrops tapped against the shutters. The fire that crackled in the hearth exuded a soothing warmth, and I pulled the covers up to my chin. There was a knock at my door.  
  
"Aragorn, it's me again," a familiar voice said. Legolas. I love him dearly, and though the words have never been spoken, he knows it and returns my feelings.  
  
"Come in, it's open," I said. He entered with a stub of white candle in a brass holder and a bowl full of a steaming broth that smelled of herbs and spices. He'd just returned from hunting with some members of the Guard and was still clad in his traveling clothes.  
  
"How are you feeling?" he asked, setting the candleholder on the table next to my bed. He pulled the wooden stool from its usual place by the window and set it beside the table.  
  
"Better," I said. He helped me sit up and repositioned my pillow before taking his seat, just as he has done for the past ten days.  
  
"Good. Here, drink this...."  
  
He handed me the bowl, and with shaking hands, I took up the spoon, but most of the broth fell back into the bowl before I could get any at all into my mouth.  
  
"Here, let me help you," said Legolas, smiling in amusement. He took the bowl from me and carefully spooned its contents into my mouth.  
  
"How was hunting?" I asked as he set the bowl aside.  
  
"We saw a large grey stag with regal antlers, high up on the mountain. He eluded us easily, but secretly I was happy, for I felt it would be a shame to kill a creature so beautiful and proud."  
  
A wistful look came over his face for a moment. The deep ties with nature that had been bred into his kindred became obvious to me once more. "What did you catch, then?" I queried.  
  
"Three pheasants and six brown hares," he said.  
  
He'd probably caught most of them. I smiled to myself and reached over to take hold of one of his hands. His skin was smooth and warm against mine, and I interlaced my fingers with his.  
  
"Here, let me...." his sentence trailed off and he moved to sit beside me on my bed. He pressed our hands to his heart and kissed me softly. "I wish you would get better," he murmured and put his arms round my neck, careful to avoid the wounds across my chest and shoulders.  
  
I pulled him closer and cradled his head against my shoulder. He is so kind to me, and I felt bad for causing him grief. "When I will be healed is not up to me. The healers are doing all they can for me, and aside from that, there is nothing else anyone can do," I said. "I am sorry."  
  
"Nay, Aragorn. Do not be sorry. I will stay by your side as long as need be," he said softly. His voice was slightly muffled by the fabric of my shirt.  
  
"Aa," I said after a space. "You should get some rest."  
  
"I will," he said.  
  
He fell asleep in my arms some time later.  
  
"I do not deserve you," I whispered quietly. And it was true, for I am but a mortal man. He does so much for me, without asking anything in return, and I am not at all worthy. On many occasions I have told him so, and each time he has silenced me with a kiss....  
  
He is my guiding light. Were it not for him, I would have already passed on. I had been unconscious for six days, and it was for him that I fought and clung so tightly to the tattered shreds of life. I could never let him go.  
  
I have been told that he never left my side when I was unconscious, and I know I had worried him profoundly, for when I finally awakened, I saw tears running down his face.  
  
He is my strength. I found condolence and solace in his arms when our companions fell, he calmed my heart and chased away the lingering shadows.  
  
Legolas, with his long golden hair and bright aquamarine eyes, voice as smooth as silk. The spirit of a warrior resides within him, yet his heart is that of an angel. He never ceases to amaze me.  
  
He is my everything.  
  
When I awoke the next morning, the candle had long burned out and the fire in the hearth had died to glowing embers.  
  
Legolas had already left to start his day. The bed felt strangely cold and empty.  
  
=End=  
  
Not sure if I like it. Bwah. *wails* And it was such a good idea, too. *sighs* Oh well. This took me three and a half hours to write. All that, for *this?!* Damn. 


End file.
